for years we fought the night
|
with pale and ghostly flames
|
but some still dream of light
|
so the sun will rise again
|
and cure our need for wrongs
|
in cool and measured crime
|
and learn to drift in palm
|
in our hearts and in our minds
|
|
and let us not be faithless
|
for you will meet our needs
|
the good and gracious Word is
|
a lamp unto our feet
|
|
for years we've closed our eyes
|
while rust on reason grows
|
and we feed and clothe our lies
|
but in our hearts we know, yeah we know
|
that wisdom lends us all
|
a cool and steady hand
|
and the steel pressed to my palm
|
doesn't make me more a man
|
|
and courage for the givers
|
to do what must be done
|
to deal out truth and justice
|
with swift and silver guns
|
|
for years you met our thirst
|
still deserts we have roamed
|
well be done with dust and dirt
|
when the ocean calls us home
|
and well fall into the arms
|
of a cool and sweet embrace
|
under stars and waving palms
|
well shed our sin like snakes
|
|
and time will cease to stalk us
|
and death will be undone
|
but well shine with the light of
|
a thousand blazing suns
|
|
-----------------
|
Weary Saints
|
| Thrice |
